We are made men
but not happy
in this haven,
not willing
to forget them
whose blood
we are bathed in.
Trekking through
a forest of graves
unfazed for we
are pathologically raised
to fight wars for words
or the plan of the hour
– to devour every last
budding flower.

Creeping
while you’re weeping,
watch the clock
tic toc-ing
while you’re stalking,
well served purpose
lost to greed
exceeding the amount
of mouths to feed.
They brought desire
to even the purist breed
as my fire
is extinguished
in their revelry
– flowing through
both you
and me.
Can’t erase
the time well spent
on well-fed lies,
dining on
well-fed pride,
breaking our backs
with well-placed wine,
lost in the word
instead of the divine.

Weary hearts
doing our part
and we won’t rest
until we’re dearly departed.
Religion,
hell-bent on judgment,
is man’s punishment
for being man;
corrupted in the minds
we’re given,
walking the line
and forging the mission
out of indecision
for lack of wisdom.
Power we will
devour like cake
well baked
for the sake
of a love not created
– into the depth
of this mind
your lies penetrated;
elated at the thought
of a life
lost to apathy.

We are all just
zombies
walking the world
pretending
to be authentic,
but just
representing
the well spent dollars
that devour
the last traces
of individuality
into the
corporate state
of insatiability.

 

4 Comments

  1. From one of Starhawk’s articles [paraphrase since i cant remember the exact one]: ‘you might think that as a cofounder of Reclaiming that I’d be leading rituals naked under the full moon rather than hiding from Israeli soldiers in the West Bank…’ they were giving aid work and material to civilians. it’s an activist creed.

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